Kidnap Memories

Last night I was in bed alone, relaxing and letting my mind wander across thoughts and memories as I fingered my clit idly. 

My girlfriend was gone for the night, off visiting a dominatrix she frequents that gives her some of the more intense humiliation and abuse she craves. As you know I am no longer a 'Slave Bride', the divorce ended that some time ago and I am now in a relationship with a wonderful woman. The only downside is that we are both submissives, so she seeks satisfaction elsewhere at times, as do I.

I was thinking about her, what was she doing right then? Was she servicing the dominatrix, tongue buried deep, trying her best to meet her domme's demands? Perhaps she was locked in a closet, in the dark, isolated with only a dog bowl of water to keep her company?

She might even be holding an enema as the peristalsis cramps hit her and she begs for permission to release (denied, of course).

Thinking of my dear girlfriend suffering at that moment was arousing. I sort of wished I could be there to watch. Was I jealous? Maybe a little, but we have our arrangements and that means I can also indulge myself in ways she isn't a part of. Tradeoffs.

I am pretty good as a switch but I can't give her all she needs. She's very picky about the type, style and intensity of the domination she submits to. 

At times I enjoy joining her as a woman dominates us both-- it has become one of my favorite things to do in recent months. The woman we have as a mutual dominatrix is a bit of a newbie, but she is learning. And she has the basics of what she needs-- a sadistic spirit.

But that weekend was for my girlfriend to be with her old favorite, a woman who truly gets off on watching my dear girlfriend suffer.

And so I was alone, laying there naked in the semi-dark, sheets kicked down, fingers between my legs, imagining the moans and cries of my girl. My mind eventually slipped into other memories, of when I had spent weekends in long sessions. Kidnap scenes.

So... as I masturbated I reminisced about some of those early days. The memories were actually quite arousing, and I've decided to tell you about one of my early experiences with a dominant I had when I was young. A guy who mentored me, who helped me really identify what my kink was. And coincidentally, I also had my first kidnap scenes with him, long ones that lasted a weekend.

This first real dom was truly experienced, with whom I ended up spending quite a bit of time, was a married man perhaps 14 or 15 years older than I. Let's call him Eric (not his real name).

Considering I was just barely legal at the time (still a teenager), he wasn't actually that old and had a fairly good body (though he wasn't that good looking). He ran a pool cleaning business during the day. His wife served as his regular submissive and rope partner, they both enjoyed playing with bdsm and related kinks. She was cute, and I liked them both. Let's call her Emma.

Eric actually trolled me and hit me up online, back when social media was in its infancy. He had been looking for women that appeared open to alternative lifestyles. I presented a sort of goth or metal babe appearance back then.

We wrote back and forth and flirted online, and quickly became aware that both he and I were into rope and bondage and he asked me if I wanted to come over and try some things out.

He shared some pictures of what he did, of his rope work. He was active in a local kink club chapter and did rope demonstrations a couple of times a year.

It wasn't hard to convince me. 

"So you have no boyfriend who ties you up?"

"Myself at the moment, bozo. Why, you offering to do it?"

"Sure, if you are up for it. You've seen what I do. I'll go easy on you. Emma will be there. Safe and sane, you know?"

"Yeah, um.... OK. This weekend?"

"I work until four Saturday, how about 5? Oh, and one thing. I have a fetish for heels. You might have noticed in the pics. Heels are required."

"What? You are kidding. I hate heels."

"Eh. Heels required. They are my thing. I will negotiate whatever else, but you gotta wear heels."

*sigh*

"I don't even own any. I'd have to buy some."

But I wanted to do it. I was tired of tying myself up, and it was clear Eric could do it well. And the fact his wife would be around made the whole thing a lot safer. Eric lived in a different town and I wanted to be safe.

I finally agreed. While self bondage is fun there is nothing like being truly helpless and at the mercy of another. I agreed to go meet with him and let him rope me up.

As I mentioned, this was back in my goth phase. I had long black hair (still do) and wore black a lot, including the big boots. The heels thing bothered me. But then, everybody has their fetish, their style, and this was his. God, I hated heels, they were antithetical to my entire style . but I agreed. I had to actually go out and buy a pair of heels just for him.

Suffice it to say my first session with him was a roaring success. He restrained both his wife and I (to make me feel more comfortable with him, I think). She was more experienced than I, though I was fast catching up. The heels were awkward and felt weird but once I was bound and tied to Emma (I rather liked that), and she was also wearing heels, I began to just forget about it.

He was careful not to break any limits, and to gain my trust. 

The first time he did me completely clothed, like, making me feel safe since I was new to him and all. It felt good to be helpless. He tied me tight and took his time. Wrists, elbows, waist. He left my legs free. I think he was easing me in because he didn't want to freak me out.

I had used ropes for self bondage and had been tied with ropes (though cuffs were more common with someone else). I was finding I really liked ropes the best.

The second time I agreed to mostly strip, though I insisted on wearing panties. It was a subtle way of telling him that while I was naked, he couldn't fuck me. Though he did fondle my breasts quite a bit and held me. He liked to hold me as if he were hugging or caressing me while I was tied up.

One night late he was chatting with me. I was at home and we were talking just about bondage and our kinks and stuff. He'd tied me up a few times by then and we shared experiences. He had more experience than me, of course, though he really liked being able to talk to me and get the woman submissive's perspective.

"Have you had your elbows tied back all the way, touching?"

"Yeah, hell, you did that. Don't you remember?"

"No, I tied your arms, but your elbows weren't touching. You done that?"

"Um, yes. Why, you wanna try that? Does it hurt?"

"Ever worn an armbinder?"

I had, but only once.

"Yes. Sure."

"How long was the longest you wore it?"

I was young and trying to impress my dominant. I'd only worn an armbinder once, and it had been on maybe ten, fifteen minutes.

"Um, not sure, but I'd say two hours," I lied. Armbinders are a piece of equipment I knew about but had very little experience with. They can be expensive and only people seriously into bondage buy them. 

The next time we had a scene he had an armbinder, one that was significantly more restrictive that the one I had worn before. When strapped and laced tightly it forced my elbows together behind my back so my forearms were touching along with my elbows. It also had straps around the shoulders and neck so I couldn't wriggle it off.

Damn that thing was restrictive. I hated it... and loved it. Especially the way it forced my boobs out in front of me as if inviting someone to do something to them.

He left me in it for over an hour and let me tell you, that was tough.

"Please, Eric. Please take it off."

He ignored me. He was doing something else, tying up Emma or something. 

"Pleeeeaase... it's cramping!" I cried out. I had tipped over onto the floor but it didn't matter what position I was in, it felt the same.

"Shall I give you something to distract you?" He offered.

"No!" I quickly said. I had learned last time that distractions were typically painful.

"Well, what will you do for me if I take it off?"

Staring at his face, I finally sighed and said, "I will blow you."

Eric considered the offer, slowly. "I don't want to be pressuring you. This has to be your choice."

"Yes, yes, I will suck your cock if you let me out."

"OK." He took his cock out and presented it to my face.

"No, no, take the binder off first!"

"Nah," he put his cock back in his pants.

"Oh shitshitshit, OK!"

His cock brushed my lips and I opened them, letting him slide in.

This was the first time I'd sucked his cock. You might think I was being coerced or forced, but he knew as did I that I had a safe word and I wasn't using it. I had chosen not to use it. Of course, I knew if I used the safe word the entire scene would end and I was actually really enjoying being restrained, in spite of the pain.

So I slid his cock into my mouth and sucked, moving my tongue along the bottom of his cock and letting it go down my throat until he ejaculated. He pulled out suddenly (I could feel his contractions starting) and spurted semen all over my face, producing a lot of cum. His wife watched from across the room where she had been tied to a post.

True to his word, he removed the armbinder.

I still had heels on, though, damn him.

You have to realize how weird the heels were for me. There I was, 19 years old, I think I had worn heels maybe two or three times in my life. Most of the time I wore boots or running shoes. I even wore boots when I went to prom. Heels felt fundamentally unnatural to me.

On the other hand, they also became sort of a sign of submission. I did something for Eric I would never do for another guy or in another situation. I debased myself, catering to his whim, wearing heels for him so he could get off on humiliating me.

I'd bring the heels with me when I went over to his place. The first thing we did when we would begin-- I'd take off my regular shoes and put on the heels. From that point forward, I was his. It was symbolic of my submission.

He wanted me to get ballet boots at some point. I was a student and couldn't afford equipment like that, and said no. He could buy them if he wanted. He said no. He had bought the armbinder, and that was enough of an expense for now.

Eric and I talked at least once a week, sharing experiences and ideas. He had other women he tied up (most older than me) and he had begun taking of photos of them. He did this enough he had the idea he could sell the photos and basically start his own small porn shop. He shared some of the photos of he had taken with these other women, of him and Emma with other women.

"Do you pay these other women?" I asked one night. He seemed rather vague. "Sometimes if a woman wants to be paid, yeah, I will give her some money. A lot will be like you, they just like to play and have fun."

"But you are taking photos. I also know you want to start selling photos. What's going on there?"

"I just arrange and agree with each girl beforehand what the rules are. I pay any girl a modeling fee for photos if she agrees to let me sell them later."

"You'd pay me?" I was habitually short on cash back then. 

"Yeah, if you'd let me take photos that could be resold later."

Two weeks later I agreed to let him take photos of me. $500. It doesn't seem like a lot now, but back then it made a serious dent in my expenses, and it was all he could afford, Neither of us had a lot of money.

"So... let's do a shoot, but how about we combine it with something unique and fun?"

"Ohhhh?" 

"A kidnap scene. Realistic. Emma and me will kidnap you, have you be our slave for a weekend. We keep you tied up and restrained for the weekend and make you serve us."

I didn't want to admit it but the proposition was intriguing. He'd described the fact he'd done this with a couple of other women before, and it had fascinated me then. I could really see myself sinking into subspace and just living there in that condition for a while. Actually becoming a slave in my mind, giving up on being free.

It took some preparation. A weekend when nothing else was going on for any of us. A more detailed discussion of limits; we'd been doing things for a few months now and he was familiar with my limits but the kidnap scene, well, it needed to stretch the limits.

For example, Eric had never fucked me. I'd sucked him off a few times, but he'd never fucked me.  I gave permission for him to fuck me any way he wanted. The types of restrains expanded, the fact he could physically hurt me (as in torture or punish me, which he'd not done before other than thrugh bondage techniques). A lot suddenly changed.

Arranging the kidnap was also detailed out. It would have been more fun if I didn't know when it was coming, but for safety reasons that was a bad idea. We needed it to happen in a place where no one would observe and think it was real. 

Regardless of the planning, I was still surprised. I was to be kidnapped from my home on Friday evening. I figured they'd do it around bedtime, maybe when I was trying to go to sleep (I didn't think I'd sleep knowing I was about to be kidnapped). but nope, they came early in the evening, right after I got our of the shower.

One moment I was drying myself off, the next I had a burlap bag over my head and my arms were being pulled back and wrists tied behind my back. It happened fast and within seconds I was helpless, pushed to my knees and dragged out of the house. Eric had a van for his pool cleaning business and I was stuffed in there in short order. Naked. Tied. A bag over my head. And terrified. I didn't think I'd be scared, because I knew what was happening but for some reason I was scared anyway.

An hour drive in the van. They'd tied me wrist and ankles then tied the wrists to the ankles in a makeshift hogtie. I could roll from side to side, but that was all. I was helpless.

Things quickly deteriorated, so that I knew this wasn't like the last times I had played and done scenes with Eric and Emma before. It was brought home clearly when I was struggling and fighting in the back of the van and Eric slapped my face, hard. My head was still in the damn bag so I never saw it coming. My head jerked to the side, and my ears rang from the impact. all of a sudden the situation became very serious. I was stunned and quieted down quite a bit after that.

That hit-- I wouldn't call it a slap, it was open handed (I think, I couldn't see) but it was hard and made my head reel. It changed my entire attitude. Shit was getting real.

As I lay naked and tied in the back of the van, cold metal floor against my flesh, unable to move-- I began to think. Wild thoughts. What if this wasn't Eric? I hadn't seen him. It would be a remarkable coincidence if I was kidnapped by someone else the exact day I had agreed to be kidnapped by Eric... but it was possible.

Fear shot through me. It was cold, like a cold steel sword sinking deep inside my stomach.

No, it couldn't be. And it didn't change anything. I couldn't do anything about it now, I was tied tight in a van going someplace. 

The van stopped and the back doors opened with a clunk. Hands grabbed me and pulled me out. My ankles were untied. Panic struck me and I tried to run but was jerked back. I hadn't realized they had slipped on a collar with a leash. That collar and leash stuck with me the entire weekend and never let me escape, even when I had my wrists unbound.

"Behave," growled a voice. It was Eric's, I was pretty sure. It calmed me a bit, but I was still scared. Led into a house, unable to see anything, I stubbed my toe and hopped, howling.

Led to a place where I was made to stand, my wrists carefully unbound but rebound to a bar in front of me. Still secured, unable to escape. 

Then the tit clamps. Damn. I could feel him grab my boobs. I have largish breasts and he grabbed and pulled the right one up so the nipple was pointing upward. Then I felt the cold clamp go on. Hot damn, it hurt. I yelped and cried, but the same thing happened to my left boob. Lifted. stretched up, then clamp on the nipple, and pain. 

Yeah, the nipple clamps hurt like hell because they were stretching my breasts up and pulling, plus they were tight as hell and brought tears to my eyes. I whimpered and begged, to no avail.

Standing on my toes helped, but I could not do that forever.

The bag came off my head, thank goodness, and the air felt cool and fresh and I breathed in deeply (ouch boobs moving my clamped nipples). I shook my hair out (it's rather long) and saw Eric standing before me. I should have felt relief that it wasn't some stranger, and I suppose it was good but I was still feeling fear down deep and the pain in my nipples was clouding my perceptions. My wrists were locked up and I couldn't get to the clamps which turned out to be a dress hanger. I was in a closet, the dress hanger clamped to my nipples and wrists fastened to the closet clothes bar.

"Glad to have you, welcome to your new life as a sex slave. Not quite ready to do anything with you yet, you need to just hang out here for a while."

Eric grinned then left me there, literally hanging from a hanger in a closet.

It was sheer torture. I'd had nipple clamps before, enough to know how they worked and the sensations involved.

But my boobs are heavy and were pulling down and those clamps were tight. I tested them a bit, pulling down to see if I could get them off. All that did was stretch my breasts and create more pain, so I stood up again. 

I also learned then that some hangers have tighter, stronger clamps than others, and these were tighter than I'd ever had.

There was no clock visible and I don't know how long I hung there. Eric and Emma were going about their business in the house, basically ignoring me. I was the sex doll in the closet, stored for future use.

The pain was terrible, but numbness began to set in, making it a bit easier. Except I also knew that numb was not good. Numb meant insufficient blood flow and damage. I wasn't gagged, so I begged whenever I could, asking for the clamps to be taken off. I was ignored.

I realized I could take the clamps off myself, I was able to move enough I could pull straight down. I tried it, and my boobs stretched up, pulling up with the clamps that held them in place. And it made them hurt ten times as much. It brought tears to my eyes, and eventually I realized my breasts were large enough I'd have to lower myself quite a way before putting enough pull on the clamps, and every extra inch made it hurt that much worse. It was better to leave them on.

And of course, if I did get them off, Eric would probably just clamp them right back on.

I have no idea how long I hung there, but it was probably about 45 minutes. I'd never had clamps on that long before, and I'd never stood motionless in place that long before. (I worked as a waitress at the time and was constantly moving at the job). It was hard, my legs began to cramp and I shifted around, moving as best I could to relieve cramps. Unfortunately that also pulled on the clamps harder and hurt, but there was no choice.

Finally, the clamps came off, and I screamed. They hurt twice as bad for about a minute or two as the blood rushed back in to my poor flattened nipples. 

"Time to be used, baby," Eric said. He knelt down and lifted my feet one at a time and put the high heels on. A core part of his ritual. He then tied my wrists and elbows behind me, leaving my legs free to walk about. I still had a collar and leash on with which he could control me.

Eric pulled me out of the closet, walking into the living room and into a room we had used in the past for bondage scenes. It had some equipment in it, as well as a couple of chairs and eye bolts in the ceiling for suspensions and the like. I trotted along, accepting my fate.

I'd entered a state of subspace by then. In fact, I think I'd entered subspace back in the van when he first hit my face. My mind was accepting my fate. The world had shrunk and I was simply trying to keep my abductor happy. I was kidnapped, under his control, subservient, lost, a sex slave, going to be used and abused and my focus was on simply enduring and trying to obey and please.

His hand went to my shoulder and pushed me down on my knees. His cock came out of his pants. I'd had it in my mouth a couple of times by then and was familiar with it. It was erect, hard, ready. Obediently, I opened my mouth but hesitated to take it in. 

In response, he slipped his belt off, wrapped it around my neck and jerked me forward, my face smashing against his cock and balls. "Suck it, bitch. Or do you want to spend another hour in the closet?"

"No... please..." With that I opened my mouth wide and his sizeable cock slid in. He used the belt to jerk me closer until his cock was all the way in, balls deep and more. It went down so far I thought I could feel it press against my vocal cords. It expanded and filled my throat, I couldn't help but clamp down and try to expel it, which caused me to gag and my stomach pushed stuff up.

Of course he didn't mind if I gagged and barfed, that was just lube to him and he liked seeing me gag. The slime from my stomach surged up and drooled out as he began thrusting. His cock stayed deep, sinking deeper with each thrust. I didn't have to do much except try not to bite down and not die from asphyxiation.

I was 19 and no stranger to blow jobs by then,  though this was perhaps one of the most forceful and deep throat ones I had dealt with. Eric wasn't holding back.

Between my arms being bound behind my back and the belt around my neck, I was pretty much at his mercy. I took his cock deep as much as I could, choked, gagged, gasped for air when I could. He kept his cock in long enough my head pounded and I began to see spots in my eyes.

I did my best because the faster he came, the sooner this would be over. Whether he was holding back or not I don't know, but he didn't come fast. There were a couple of times I saw spots because of lack of oxygen and desperately moved my head to get some bit of air in.

He never did cum; Emma came in and said, "Oh dear, you are using the sex slave. Dinner is ready. Can't you finish with her later?"

Eric pulled out and let me sink back, then fall over onto the floor, gasping and thanking fortune that I could breathe again.

"This bitch vomited all over me, let me clean up a bit. And put her away."

Putting me away consisted of Eric finishing up with a really tight hogtie. Eric was always proud of his rope skills and loved to use them. He could tie me up so I would never get loose in 100 years, but still had limited abrasions and just basic rope marks.

He spent a solid ten minutes roping my ankles and attaching that to the wrist restraints (which were damn solid as it was). My elbows were touching behind my back (a strain which would grow worse with time) and legs bent. 

I also got a very nice red ball gag. I'd worn it a couple of times before in previous (short) scenes. Thank goodness he washed and disinfected it between girls. What a thought... I was one of a chain of girls Eric used and abused. That gag had been in many other girl's mouths.

Eric and Emma had dinner at their dining table and I was placed nearby. I could smell the roast beef dinner she had cooked (I think it was leftovers but still pretty good) and wow I discovered I was hungry. And thirsty. I made noise through the gag asking for something to drink, but was ignored. Eventually, Eric leaned over and said, "The slave is making too much noise. Should I bag its head?"

"No, dear. Give it a chance to calm down. It's probably hungry." I was being referred to as 'It'. The threat of the bag over my head did indeed calm me down. (Though it was clear Emma was being a lot nicer to me than Eric; she was actually restraining him a bit, for which I was grateful.)

I had expected Emma would not be a significant part of the kidnap weekend, but she was fully into it in her own way. While it was Eric that did most of the tying and torture, Emma was right there by him, treating me like a kidnapped slave. It really impacted my mindset, making me feel less and less human and more like just owned property. I was in subspace, and deeply enough that I didn't realize I was in subspace.

It was during dinner, when I lay on the floor hogtied, that Eric took the first pictures. I had totally forgotten that was part of the deal. He was paying me $500 to take photos he could actually sell. 

When he pulled that camera out and started taking the photos it hit me hard that I was naked and restrained on the floor and these photos were going to be sold and viewed by god knows how many people, men, who would mostly masturbate to them. It felt incredibly odd. It made me feel even more vulnerable. It was like being tied up in front of a large room crowded with men, all with the dicks out, stroking, as I struggled in front of them. I couldn't see them, but they were there.

Eric had ball gagged me just before they started eating, so I was drooling and mostly on my stomach. He took photos of me from a couple of different angles (I made nasty grunting noises showing my displeasure through my gag, which he ignored).

Of course all these photos were of my bum and the arms and legs bound. He did get low for a couple of face shots, but then used his foot to roll me over onto my side so he could get some shots of my front.

I hadn't realized how humiliating it would be having my picture being taken while tied up like that. Exposed. Eric made a point of getting me from all angles. Up until that point I had engaged in lots of sexual activity and nudity in front of a variety of people. I'd even allowed photos by boyfriends and the like, but never with the understanding these would be sold and passed around. 

After twenty-five snaps or so Eric and Emma cleaned up their dinner table. 

Eric brought out two dog bowls, nice metal ones. He must have bought it just for me because he didn't own a dog. The first bowl he filled with water. The second he filled with craps from his plate. He tilted the plate over the bowl and scraped in whatever was left over.  He then took Emma's plate and did the same. She hadn't eaten as much so there were more scraps.

Bits of beef (the bits he didn't want to eat and trimmed off the edges), some mashed potatoes, broccoli, crusts of bread-- it all got scraped into the bowl in a kind of mush. He slid the bowls over to me and leaned over to undo my ball gag.

"Have a good dinner," he said then left.

Yeah, I knew I wouldn't be getting anything better so I dug in. I was hungry, and that helped.

Eating from a bowl without my hands sucked. I had to smash my face into the food to get it into my mouth, and use my tongue in innovated ways to get pieces of food scooped in. Of course it got all over my face, as well. 

I heard clicking; yes, Eric was taking photos of me eating from the bowl. I gave him a dirty look and returned to my dinner, then drank water from the bowl. That was harder than the food, I had to purse my lips and suck it up. Slow business.

After dinner, I had... needs. The bathroom. 

"Eric, I need to go. Pee. Poop." The ball gag was off, so I could easily tell him. He reacted in disgust.

"Ugh. Yeah. Fine." He untied my legs from the hogtie, a tremendous relief because my body wasn't bent backward any more. Using my collar and leash to encourage me, he had me stand up and follow him to the back. The closet. There was a bucket there.

"This is your toilet. I am not going to be bothered with getting up in the middle of the night or come take care of your needs whenever you decide. Go for it."

He looped the leash around the closet railing and locked it in place. I had some freedom of moment but couldn't go more than a foot or two out of the closet.

For a moment I thought he was going to stand and wait, watching me relieve myself. That was a horrible thought. I'd never had anyone watch me do it, and I hated restrooms that didn't have doors in the stalls, like back in junior high. Fortunately, he left me.

It was still damned hard to do it in a bucket. I had to aim right, and was terrified I'd miss. But I managed to get it all in.

"Eric? I am done! How am I supposed to... clean myself?"

My kidnapper didn't respond. I stood in the closet next to the bucket and waited for a while. It smelled. I hated this. It was a part of the whole kidnap experience I hadn't thought about.

"Errriiiic! I need to wipe!" I called out after a while, louder this time. Still nothing. After a few minutes Eric came back and glowered at me. 

"Don't call me that. I am master. Or yes, sir."

"Sorry, sir. Sir, can I wipe myself?" I tried to be submissive. I tend to be a little overbearing in my normal life so unless I am in subspace I can be a bit feisty. I had slopped out of subspace during the whole bucket ordeal.

"Emma and I will wipe you. Come," Eric said. OK, that was going to disgusting and a little humiliating. 

They actually gave me a really thorough cleaning, wiping my butt, cleaning my pussy, making sure I was pristine. I realized why a moment later. Eric wanted to fuck me.

As many times as I'd submitted to being tied up by him, he'd never fucked me. I'd given him a couple of blow jobs before while tied in rather uncomfortable positions, but I'd never agreed to allowing him to fuck me.

This time, arranging for the kidnap scene, I'd agreed to let him fuck me in whatever way he wanted. 

Emma had the camera this time. I knew she took photos and enjoyed it, in fact Eric was the rope artist and liked to let Emma take the photos (when she wasn't tied up as well).

I was dragged by my leash (strange how I had come to think of it as 'my' leash) into the bedroom, a place I hadn't been before.

Once again Eric tied me up, roping my elbows to my knees, and my wrists to a rope around my neck. I'd never been roped that way before, it was an odd and very uncomfortable position, and bent me so my ass was up in the air, exposed nicely. 

I have to say I didn't cooperate during this. I struggled, and Emma had to help hold me in place as Eric threaded the rope and pulled it tight. I must have been struggling hard, too, because I was sweating a lot by the time he was done and I was immobilized. My mouth was filthy, too, as he pointed out. He threatened to make me pay for insulting him and calling him names; I didn't care at that point.

They both photographed me in that position, and while they did, Eric stripped. This was a little unusual, it was most common for Eric to remain mostly clothed during our bondage sessions, though he's drop his pants to let me give him a hand job or suck him. This time he stripped completely.

Kneeling behind me, Emma got a few shots of what I assumed was his hard cock before I actually felt the tip sliding along my pussy lips.

"Damn, you are a little slut, aren't you?" Eric laughed derisively. "You are wet. Dripping wet."

Yeah, he was probably right. I fucking love being tied up and he did a damn good job of it and my pussy was actually aching to be fucked.  He teased me for a moment, sliding the head of his cock along my lips, and then pushed in. It slid in easily, making me grunt as the large appendage spread me wide and I felt it hit my cervix.

He grunted too. It was the first time he'd fucked me, sort of a milestone for us both.

After sliding in and out slowly a few times and enjoying the feel of my pussy he began pounding, which was difficult. I mean, I love being fucked hard, penetrated and stretched and bruised and dominated by a male, but it still made me grimace.

Emma had been floating around during Eric's gradual approach and penetration. It was a little weird, I'd never fucked a married man with his wife looking on, though by then I knew Emma well enough it wasn't tooooo weird. She'd been taking photos this whole time, and did it in a way that I almost forgot she was there.

Once Eric got going, though, I was grunting and panting a bit, even whining because he was going so deep and so hard. My boobs were flopping a bit because my body was bouncing back and forth. (I have largish boobs). Eric reached out and grabbed them, keeping them in place and using them to hold me steadier as he rammed me.

Emma saw I was having trouble; well not trouble but that it was rather intense for me. The position I was tied in was very restrictive and I kept feeling like I would fall over, losing balance, even though my knees were spread. So Emma moved to in front of me, taking my face in her hands in sort of a gentle, reassuring gesture.

"Eric's been saving up for this," she said quietly. "We haven't had sex for a week, and he hasn't masturbated. He's been saving up his semen, his sexual energy, just for you. Let him in, let him take you. Yield to him."

It was said in such a loving manner, it actually calmed me a little and I nodded my (bouncing) head for her. It was easy to look at her while Eric fucked me from behind. She knew what I had inside me, she had taken him inside her as well, many times.

I bit my lip, steeled myself, and let him fuck me as hard as he wanted. Not that there was anything I could do about it. I was tied so tight I couldn't have stopped him if he had wanted to slice me up into pieces (which thank goodness he didn't want to).

It didn't last that long, he had been on the verge of squirting his cum before he even penetrated me, I think. He kept it back as long as he could. When he did cum, he pulled out and squirted directly between my ass cheeks. I didn't really feel the hot sperm landing on my anus, though I could feel the sticky a minute later.

"Fuck, that was good," Eric said in a sort of moan. I think he was talking to Emma, because she went back to him. They were both behind me and I couldn't move, so I don't know what they did, but I assume the two exchanged some sort of affection. Maybe a kiss...?

Emma took a few photos of my ass with the semen dribbling down to my pussy lips, and it was over. I'd been fucked as a sex slave by my keepers.

They left me there for a while, the two of them going off somewhere else in the house. 

That act of leaving me there, tied up in this doubled over, bent position with my ass in the air, feeling Eric's cum slowly seep over the outside of my cunt and dribble down my thighs, was humiliating and made me feel like meat more than anything that had happened so far. It was also exactly the kind of thing I craved (and still crave). Tied and helpless, unable to respond to the situation or clean myself up.

I'd lost track of time in all this and hadn't realized it was really late. Like, midnight. Eric and Emma were getting ready for bed, leaving me there on the bedroom floor. Eric took a shower and Emma was removing makeup, doing her hair brushing (she has long, beautiful hair) and that kind of thing. 

"Please... don't leave me like this..." I sort of whined. I wasn't in pain, but I was uncomfortable and deeply afraid they would leave me tied in this very uncomfortable position for the entire night. I'd tipped over on my side, now that Eric had fucked me and left me alone with his sperm. It was still awful.

Eric came over, untied me most of the way then dragged me by the hair (I have long hair) over to a walk-in closet. My wrists were still tied behind my back and my leash was locked to an eye bolt in the closet so I couldn't go anywhere.

"Eric, please, let me sleep in a bed--"

"I told you to never call me that. I am master, or yes sir."

With that he pulled that bag, the canvas bag over my head again. Everything went dark and I was left in the closet alone, for the night.

So I started this post because I had been remembering and masturbating to these memories the other night while my girlfriend was off romping with her dominatrix. Turns out the memories are more detailed (once I get to remembering them) and go on for two days, which is too much for one post. I will have to continue this another time.